


We'll make our own luck

by decapiteight



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, PTSD, bay over bae au, i love angst dont look at m, some exploration with the rewind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decapiteight/pseuds/decapiteight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Universe is cruel at the best of times, and moving on is hard.</p><p>Leave it to Dana Ward to take the Universe up on those impossible challenges, and make a party of it, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark & Stormy

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH TO [Eiprej](archiveofourown.org/users/Eiprej/pseuds/Eiprej) FOR BEING MY WONDERFUL BETA AND FIXING ALL MY MISTAKES... This is my first proper fic and it wouldn't be half as good without her help 8")

 

In a week and a half, it will have been one year since Max Caulfield watched her best friend -- her _girlfriend_ \-- die. Well, the girlfriend part is a technicality. It doesn't exist in this universe, doesn't exist anywhere but in that moment, somewhere out there, lost in the void of space and time. In all the shit she abused her powers to do.

 

And after her burial, no one’s been quite the same.

 

Everyone at Blackwell knows she's still mourning. No one bothers to comment anymore, even Victoria has stopped scoffing and instead looks at her with something akin to remorse, or pity. Max thinks there might be disdain, too, but Victoria doesn't get to judge her for being upset her best friend is dead, when her’s is in prison for her murder. 

And even though she's still being offered help -- Kate very warmly welcomes her to her Bible Study meetings, to talk, get some support, if she needs -- and as kind as it is, she declines, still.

 

David, too, exchanges eye contact with her in the hallway-- and they talk sometimes, at his and Joyce's house. About Chloe. But Max likes to keep the subject away from her, away from how she feels, most times. You could say she doesn't like to dwell on it, but that wouldn't be the truth.

 

There just isn't much to say on the matter.

 

Chloe's dead because of her. A large part of Max wishes the universe could have been kind, could have let the life support Chloe was put on to have _worked,_ but after a few short days it became apparent no amount of medical progress or experimental methods in this world could save her.

So she said her goodbyes, attended the funeral, and sat down on the lighthouse bench until day became a cold night and Joyce had found her there. She’d put her hand on Max’s shoulder, told her _‘go back.’_

 

Which is almost ironic, considering Max still could. Undo it all and keep Chloe alive, even though the cost would be too huge for either of them to handle. Some days it’s hard to tell whether it would be worth it or not.

 

But now is a day better spent doing something else, because someone at Blackwell snags one day of her week to drag her out of her misery, and take her out to coffee, with twice the energy any person should be able to possess.

 

Her name is Dana Ward.

 

Snapping out of her long string of thoughts, Max gets up and dressed more properly; she hasn't been sleeping in, but she makes the effort to be presentable when they go out together.

Wearing lazy clothes -- or clothes you haven't washed in weeks -- doesn't make anything better. Dana pointed out as much to her during the end of Christmas Break, when they'd both just gotten back from their families, their suitcases so full of presents they could burst open then and there.

Max snags her trusty pair of jeans -- a little ripped at the knees but otherwise holding up well -- and a sweater she got from her Dad just last Christmas. With the weather getting colder, it'll do what it needs to. Besides, the warm pink and yellow pattern puts her in a better mood.

She considers, briefly, putting a jacket on, but settles for just a hat instead-- it gets too clumpy with sweaters inside jackets anyway.

 

Adjusting her dull red beanie, Max reaches out for her phone, about to send off a message. Just as she grabs hold of it, it vibrates with a text.

 

 _"Are you ready or do I need to come shake you out of your blanket castle?"_ _ Received at 4:15 pm. _

 

She smiles faintly, replying with ease.

 

 _"I'm making a moat around it next time and filling it with crocodiles. They’ll /Ward/ you off ^_-"_ _Sent at 4:16 pm._

 

 

After hitting send, she puts the phone in her bag and starts walking down the hallway, her converse squeaking every other step. Max feels her phone buzz at her side, briefly, not bothering to check in favor of knocking on her friend’s door.

 

It opens fast, and Dana stands in the doorway with a t-shirt and sweatpants on, her earrings jingling briefly. The sight makes Max snort.

 

"You talk a big game about getting me ready, Ward." she says, her expression smug, and Dana arches a perfect brow.

 

"Finish that sentence and I'm gonna noogie you so hard your head'll bruise."

 

Max raises her hands, feigning defense. "Alright, alright. I'll be out here until you're done, unless you wanna go out in pajamas."

 

She just gets a warning look for that, before the door is shut, and Max thinks back to how this all began.

 

It's not a long or particularly interesting story, but it makes her happy to think back to. Because if there's one person you can trust to kick your ass back into shape, it's Dana.

 

\--

Christmas Break 2013 was a bit different from the usual schedule. They got a 5-day extension due to a ‘high stress start’, which was the official way of covering Kate’s near-suicide and the death of an ex-student in the dormitories just 2 months prior.

At this point there were only 4 days left of break and not much to do, considering most students wouldn’t be coming back until the second to last day.

Max hadn't done much in the time she was gone from Blackwell either. Her family let her grieve, and even if it didn't show the way people would expect -- with sobbing fits and anger -- she did leave home a day early. Not because she itched to go back to her dorm and lie around doing nothing, it was because she was tired of seeing her family so upset because of her loss.

 

And then, at 11:03 AM, far too early and far too late at the same time, there was a knock on her door. Then another, until a voice called from behind it. "I know you're in there Caulfield, so stop moping around and open up! I brought breakfast!"

Sad or not, food... did sound good. So she made her way to the door in her hotdog-themed boxers and usual nightshirt, opening it with furrowed brows, confused as to who the hell is back this early from break, and who would choose to come over to her dorm room.

 

"Wow, okay, you look like a zombie and this place smells gross. Breakfast is postponed until you take a shower, Max."

 

Those were more words than she expected, and before there could really be room for argument, Dana was leading her by the hand to the bathrooms.

 

"Just get in the shower, okay? I'll get your clothes and shower supplies if you tell me where they are.”

 

Max was about to open her mouth -- either to argue or comment, she wasn't sure herself -- only for Dana shut her up with a firm look.

 

"No worming out. I know you're upset and I'm here to make it bearable. Now _go._ "

 

It was a good thing she was too tired to argue then. And Dana kept to her word too-- even kept it private, locked the door from the inside so people would have to wait for them to be done. Which was rude, but it hardly took long to clean up, especially in a school where you've all grown accustomed to sharing the water so no one has to get a cold shower.

Afterwards Dana let her eat the food she brought, a sandwich and some hot cocoa from a shop downtown. Not that Max was given a lot of time to relax and enjoy it, when Dana was so quick to talk -- or scold her, really.

 

She could run the specifics through her mind time and time again, but the point of it all was to move on. Not pretend to move on and put on a mask of “I’m OK!”, but actually get back into the swing of things.

Obviously, this didn’t mean Dana was going to be her private psychiathrist. Max couldn’t just let go the details of her time powers and how she’d manipulated the whole bay time and time again, only to stop where she began.

As Dana put it, “You just… Need a push, to get back into the day to day. You can still be upset and all, you’re not a bad person for mourning your best friend. But you can’t spend your whole life all cooped up in grief, like some cartoon villain.”

 

So, here’s the deal:

 

One day a week, they go outside to get coffee. And Max does get a free-pass to have an inside-coffee hangout, but that only applies when they've been on at least 2 trips out already.

And again, even on inside-coffee dates they would still be together for a few hours, and talk, watch Netflix. In Dana's words, it was "to keep you in the big world too, and not just the shitty one running in your head. It's no good settling down there just yet, speaking from experience."

 

Max had wanted to ask her what that was all about for a while now, but there was never really a reason to bring it up. Besides, the whole point of this was to get out of your head, and dragging Dana into hers would be just as awful as Max settling back in her own troubles.

 

\-- 

 

The sound of the door creaking open snaps her back out of her reverie, and Dana stands there sporting tight black jeans with what looks to be a plain white T-Shirt under her leather jacket.

 

Max fakes a yawn, and Dana gives a light smack at the back of her head. "I didn't take that long." she says, the deadpan in her voice easily betrayed by the smug smile on her face.

 

She's about to bite back with another sarcastic reply, but Dana interrupts her. "Come on now, Max Factor. Not that I don't like to banter with you, but the place might close if we do our usual routine."

The nickname stings at her heart a little, and Dana's expression softens up some, noticing how her face scrunches up. "Whoa, hey,--" she begins, her hands about to grab onto her, but Max interrupts her before this becomes a trainwreck.

 

"It's okay. Now can we get going before the whole bay is closed for business?”

 

It doesn't take long for her friends worried expression to spill over to relief, and she nods, the small smile on her face toying with the idea of growing bigger.

"Hope you have your helmet." Dana says and Max nods. "Pick it up at my locker?" she asks, but it isn't really a question, because this is routine for them by now.

 

"Of course." she replies, the slight lilt in her voice a pleased one as she pulls the door to the stairs open for Max, and they walk outside in a comfortable silence.


	2. Let me sing this song for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee and break-ups can be a messy ordeal.

It baffled a lot of the students at Blackwell when they learned who owned the hulking monster of a motorcycle that had stood parked outside the school ever since spring break. No one expected Dana Ward --with her high GPA and superb connection both with the Vortex Club and students alike -- to be the person under the helmet of what became known as 'the monstercycle'.

 

Max was used to the bike by now though-- fond of it, really. It shook when you started the ignition, but it made for a strangely pleasant ride, no real noise except a deep rumble that you felt in your chest.

 

After their first trip together, she told Dana it was like being hugged by a lion.

 

She'd laughed pretty hard, but she said she liked it. Max knows she meant it, because after that, she invited her to the official naming ceremony of her bike-- now known as Aslan.  


 

This time around, even after the ride, there was silence between them. It lasted until Max found she'd fucked up her order, and Dana swapped their plates with no complaint, even as Max was trying to tell her she didn't need to, trying and failing to grab hers back.

 

Then, something changed in Dana's demeanor. She'd usually talk about some random party, or drag Max into a discussion, but today she just shrugged her leather jacket off, sipped her drink, and thought.

And like a good friend, Max figured she'd be patient until Dana spilled what was wrong, but today fate had other plans, as she’d soon see.

  


After a while of waiting, she was about to tell Dana to just let it out, until Juliet walked in the door. She hadn't seen either of them, busy on her phone while waiting in line.

 

Which wouldn't have meant much, if it weren't for that Dana was looking like a guitar string about to snap.

 

Max had never seen her look this pissed before, so there was obviously something going on that she didn’t know about. Before she could ask, Juliet was walking away from the counter, coffee in hand, giving Dana a strange look as she passed them by.

 

She's about to ask what the fuck that was supposed to be -- once Juliet’s out of sight -- but Dana stands up from her seat so fast both their drinks spill all across the coffee table, and immediately the first words out of her mouth are “shit, I’m sorry, I just--” and Max, a bit shaken in her chair, just nods and gets up.

 

“Relax, Warden, let’s-- let’s get out of here.”

 

She takes her leather jacket off the chair, one of the arms now bearing a slight coffee stain, and Max takes their soaked cardboard cups to the trash can. There is an apology to the staff, before she leads her friend outside by the hand.

 

Once they're at the sidewalk where Dana parked, the gentle bell chime from above the Cafes door is overwhelmed by Aslan's engine roaring to life. Max doesn’t get a word in before Dana hands her her helmet, some silent _“I’ll tell you later.”_

 

She eyes her friend carefully, but puts the helmet on and sits down at the back of the bike. The sound of them going off is an uncomfortable quiet.

 

The whole ride back, Max holds onto Dana a little tighter than normal. Like it'd signal   _'you owe me an explanation and another hot chocolate'_    to her over the sound of traffic, somehow. But it can't.

 

The drive to Blackwell is tense, and Max buries her face into Dana's back, frustrated.

 

-

 

The moment the motorcycle stops and she’s off, she doesn't really know where to start. Dana is still in the drivers seat, her helmet off and ponytail a bit tousled. She’s not speaking. It's like they're both waiting for someone to start a fight and shout, to justify that the other person can yell back, but none of them do. Max wasn't built for conflict, and Dana isn't one to pick a fight just for the hell of it.

 

After some minutes of Max trying to figure out what to do, one hand on her forehead, she hears her friend speak up.

  


"We broke up this summer."

  


Finding words of comfort was already hard, but count on Dana to make things even more of a challenge.

 

After a moments deliberation, Max put a hand on Dana’s shoulder, looking her in the eyes. “Let’s go back to the dorms. My room.” Dana’s about to talk, clearly about to open up an old wound or ten that Juliet left. Max stops her before she can begin with a soft touch to her shoulder.

 

“It’s a better place to pour your heart out than the concrete and you know it.” Max says, which earns her a snort and a sad smile.

 

“Got a point there, Cornfield.”

 

“I’m gonna kick your butt one of these days.” She says, but they begin to walk, the silence between them lighter as they walk towards the dorms.

 

-

 

Dana flops down on Max’s bed, the couch too much of a mess of books and papers and clothes to be sat on. There’s some silence as Max tries to figure out how to bring up anything; she doesn’t want it to be an interrogation.

 

She just wants to understand what the hell is going on that would make Dana and Juliet this much of a mess between each other.

 

After Max sits down next to Dana, it doesn’t take too long for her to begin explaining. “In July sometime, Juliet dropped the bomb on me that she’s more into guys. Like, she began to talk about this crush she’d been having for a while now, how he had washboard abs and all these crazy details you don’t tell someone you’re breaking up with.”

 

Max nods, slowly. Understandingly.

 

“So she wants to go back to being friends like we were before we began dating. Which fucked me up a bit, I mean.” There’s a break in between her sentence, a breath that shakes on the edges. “I loved her a lot, anyone could tell you. And I said some things that are really emo, looking back on it, but…”

Dana begins to trail off, and Max hesitates, before asking, “Do you still love her?” It’s a careful question, her voice tender, like it’ll make it feel less intrusive to ask.

 

She lets out a breath that’s nearly a laugh, still upset. “Fuck no. I mean, not like that, not anymore.”

 

Then she turns to face her, making Max feel less than ready for the eye contact.

 

“I still care about her, I’m not that much of an asshole. She just won’t talk about our breakup, and it’s like fuck, you know? We can’t just pretend that never happened, right?”

 

Her blue eyes are searching for affirmation, and Max nods at her once. They seem brighter afterwards, somehow.

 

“You need to talk.” She says, not sure where to continue from there. “Relationships don’t just… Happen magically. You discuss and talk to fix things, and don’t just…”

 

“Shove your problems in the closet?” Dana tries, and Max chuckles.

 

“Okay, that’s a low blow, even from you.”

 

“At least I’m not down on your level.” Her friend retorts, easily.

 

“If you keep taking stabs at my height I’m gonna call you ‘Blackwells Party Pooper’ ‘till the end of time.”

 

Dana gasps, “You wouldn’t _dare_.” her tone feigning shock.

 

“You know me,” Max replies, hand gingerly touching Dana’s shoulder. It’s not the best way to ask for a hug, but it works, as she leans in for a sideways hug that is just a little awkward.

 

It doesn’t take long for Dana to return it, and Max sighs when she strokes her back. “I’m sorry that you and Juliet got all messed up but… You’re gonna fix it. And I’m here, as long as you keep buying me coffee.”

 

She snorts, “Wow, thanks.” But the reply comes out more sincere than she expected.

 

Eventually, Max releases her hold on Dana, leaning back on the bed. “Now go give Juliet a call and square up. I’ll maybe let you pay me back for the hot cocoa after that’s settled.”

 

She gets a pretend-punch on the shoulder for that when Dana stands up, eyeing her. “You’re awful.” She says, but mouths a ‘thanks’ on her way out.

  


Once the door closes, Max falls back against the pillows, and allows the days exhaustion to catch up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another huge thank you to my beta for making this a good fic instead of a hot mess,,
> 
> Idk when the next chapters are gonna come but I hope these will be enough to quench your thirst for now


	3. Walk through and lift your blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No parent should have to bury their child."
> 
> Max meets with Chloe, and is introduced to the startling realization that she isn't in control.

They go on another coffee trip the week after, much more ordinary than the last. Dana tells her all about the Halloween party she’s got in the works, and how Juliet and her began talking again, albeit still taking baby steps. Squaring up is hard, but worth it. It makes Max oddly happy how bright Dana seems to be smiling then, and they agree they’ll have to find some really good (or really awful) costumes for the party this year. She also owes Dana a dance, and reluctantly, she agrees to make up for it twofold.

 

After that the next days fly by with schoolwork and tests, though the closer she gets to the anniversary of Chloe’s death, the less productive she is; and the less sleep she gets.

 

On the morning of the 7th, she meets up to go to Chloe’s grave with Joyce and David. She’s wearing a different hoodie than usual, the same dull red as her beanie. Her jeans are grey this time, too, some old pair she never grew out of, and her tank top is one Joyce had gifted her from Chloe’s wardrobe -- Chloe’s _old_ wardrobe…

They pick her up right outside of Blackwell, and Joyce hugs her tight before they both go back in the car. It’s a quiet trip, really, save for David’s leather jacket’s occasional squeak, until they’re at her gravestone.

 

Words were still difficult for them to find on the best of days, and Max couldn’t help but feel strange where she stood, in the space between her late best friend’s mother and stepfather. She felt wrong for mourning there with people she knew so much and so little at the same time.

 

Because Max knew she was the reason this all happened, and it shook her to her core, standing there like a black hole neither of them could see.

 

 

Once the silence got too heavy, David told them he'd "wait in the car for them to finish up".

 

They knew that was his signal that he needed some space, if the tissue box up by the driver’s seat had been any indication.

 

When Joyce and Max first began visiting Chloe after the burial, they agreed to try and stick to the positives when talking together. It wasn’t to ignore the sadness completely; it was just a way to cope without either of them drowning in it.

 

It makes Max think that nothing in this world could break Joyce Price down, not when she seems too strong for that. No one's perfect, and Joyce isn't so without emotion that her losses don't phase her, but with just a glance, Max is able to tell that she could put up a good enough fight at anything life threw at her. Even if that included her own daughter.

 

A cocktail of warm pride and hard sadness bubbles up in her chest at the thought.

 

Then they began to talk, about how David had argued which flowers were better to bring with them for the visit, and how Joyce made a cake today. Celebrating the birthday of someone no longer here might seem pointless to some, but in Joyce’s words, “you can’t let a good occasion go to waste.”

 

She went on to how her antidepressants were working well for her, how despite the initial doubt at her doctor’s recommendation, they’d been helping her out a lot. She says that maybe she’s starting to understand how Chloe had it, and after some more small talk, they finally have the peace of mind to put the bouquet down on the wet grass.

 

Max leaves to stand by the trees off to the side of the graveyard, to let Joyce have some peace talking to her daughter. She thinks about what she’d say to Chloe too. They already had a final talk, but no words are enough when you’re leaving someone behind to die.

 

Regardless, she tries to find something she can say while waiting for Joyce to finish up. Words aren’t easy to come by, so they don’t by the time Joyce lays a hand on her shoulder, telling her to take all the time she needs.

 

And so Max walks over, looking down at the ground where it says:

 

_‘In loving memory of Chloe Price_

_1994 - 2013’_

 

All beautifully inscripted, and she can’t help but think Chloe would’ve liked something much different on it. Like a joke, or at least a different font, but you can’t blame her parents for caring. She considers coming back and tagging something nice on the back of it, but vandalism is still a scary thought, and she doesn’t want to upset Joyce and David.

 

Leaving her train of thought behind, she begins to talk. Ordinary things, like how she got a C+ on her last test and it kinda sucked, because she studied hard for it. How she kept all their secrets from every timeline she can remember, and that even though Chloe didn’t get to see it, Rachel Amber got the burial she deserved.

She talks about how Nathan and Jefferson are rotting in jail for everything they’ve done, and that everyone still thinks about her. That Chloe Price has always mattered, even to people she might not have known.

 

After a moment’s hesitance, and a worried glance at Joyce -- who gives her an encouraging smile from her spot-- , she talks about Dana, and how she’s the only one who’s had the balls to confront her about being a sap over her death.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over you, Chloe… Not really. But she’s helping.” Max wipes at her eyes, keep the tears from being too much. “She’s helping a lot. Did you know she has a motorcycle? It’s totally bitchin’.”

 

There’s a sad little laugh to it, but she keeps going. “We named it Aslan. You probably never read Narnia, or whatever, but it’s pretty good. You should…” she trails off. She’s talking to a dead body, 6 feet under, she can’t exactly go off to the bookstore to find out who Prince Caspian is.

 

“You should read them sometime.” She says it anyway, and the silence that follows is heavy. “And… I’ll be back soon. I miss you, Captain Chloe.”

 

After wiping at her eyes one more time, she walks over to Joyce, and the two of them head back to the parking lot. David's eyes are puffy from tears too but none of them mind, just let him drive and have the radio drown out their thoughts the rest of the way.

  
-

They drop her off by the entrance to Blackwell and hug her goodbye, tell her to take care and come see them if there’s anything at all.

Max promises, and even when the car is gone from the horizon, it's like something's glued her to the concrete.

 

It's not just paralysis either; it's physically hard to move, like she's trying to walk through platform 9 & ¾ . The palms of her hands are clammy, and once Max gets up the first set of stairs to the school, she sees why. No one's moving. _No one can._

 

The birds are frozen in the air near the trees, and Justin is stuck in the middle of a kickflip that's bound to fail. The board slipping away from under his feet is the perfect indication. Everything is still crystal clear in her vision, like all that’s happened is the pause button has been pressed. Max can feel a drop of sweat trying to emerge on her forehead, painfully held back by the stopping of the world itself.

 

Not even time can keep the fear from crawling up her back as she makes her way up the second set of stairs. It almost feels like she’s dragging her feet through molasses, like she’s fighting a battle she shouldn’t need to just to walk.

 

_She didn't do this._

 

Doubt creeps into her mind, and it’s a blissful relief when the sweat on her face makes its way down.

 

_She'd know if she did this, right?_

 

_All she would have to do is stretch her arm out and rewind._

 

 

... But she could never do this. Time had only stopped once, with the over-use of her powers, and now they haven't been touched in over a year. She hasn't done this. She couldn’t have.

 

There's a sharp pain in the middle of her face, her mind vaguely registering it as her nose, and suddenly everything is back to normal.

 

Justin is falling on his ass to her right, his friends losing their stoned minds, Victoria is sitting with half the Vortex club in her lap near the fountain, and Brooke is out testing her flashy orange drone that she’s been bragging about for weeks.

 

She feels lightheaded, and every suspicion in the back of her mind is telling her 'check your nose, _check your nose_ ', but Max is almost afraid to. Even if it's better to find out asap if she's making a bloody mess of the campus, what good would it really do?

 

Who can she ask for help when her only explanation for a nosebleed this bad comes from something she can’t even explain herself?

 

Fumbling over to a nearby tree so she can balance herself, her hand shoots up to her nose, suspicions immediately confirmed. It’s not a thick nosebleed, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a heavy one; no wonder she’s all kinds of messed up. It doesn’t stop no matter how much she tries to wipe it away, so she reaches for her cell in the pocket of her hoodie, texting the first person who comes to mind, the first person she thinks of when she wonders who she should trust.

 

 _“Dana I need you to get me”_ _ Sent at 2:38 pm. _

 

She slides down against the rough bark of the tree, head tilting back until Max realizes that’s making it _worse_ . When she leans back forward, a fat drop lands on her phone. _Great._

 

It doesn’t take long for Dana to answer, thank God that girl has a social life --

 

 _“I thought we already got each other :P”_ _ Received at 2:40 pm. _

 

 _“No, I mean, I need you to come out to the fountain and pick me up. :( Something_ _messed me up, please dont get mad”_ _ Sent at 2:41 pm. _

 

 _“Shit, B right there”_ _ Received at 2:42 pm. _

 

 _“And dont take me to the nurse its just some rando nosebleed… Can we just chill_ _in your room instead?”_ _ Sent at 2:46 p.m. _

 

There isn’t a reply for a while, and though the bleeding has stopped now, her head is still swimming. Max leans against the wood, nearly slumped over, until she hears a voice above her.

 

Dana’s chiding “You’d better have a good explanation for this, Max.” doesn’t cover up her concern. It’s still present in how quickly she offers her hand to help her.

 

“I wish,” she says, and the smile she’s putting on her face must be weak, seeing as Dana’s brow creases with worry as she pulls her up.

 

“Oh my God, you’ve got blood all over your face. Sure that’s all your nose?”

 

“I wasn’t hit by a car, relax. But yeah, I’m.. sure.”

 

Max feels an arm wrap around her back to steady her, and while she would argue she’s not some stumbling drunk who can’t walk, her legs are saying otherwise.

 

The edges of her mind are still fuzzy, and coming across words is already hard when your friend is practically a mother hen, like she’ll protect you from the whole world if that’s what chose to fuck with you.

 

Once the dorm buildings are within sight, Max’s legs seem to start cooperating again, giving her enough leverage to just steady herself with a hand on Dana’s shoulder. Dana gives her a suspicious look in response, as if she doesn’t _believe_ that Max is feeling better, but it fades when Max proves she’s steadier on her feet now.

 

“... Hey, Dana?” She starts, almost clumsily. Which isn’t even the beginning of how she feels right now, but it’s better to speak up before it’s too late. “Thanks.”

 

She smiles, and it’s still bright even when she rolls her eyes. “Please. Not like Victoria would have her lackeys carry you over here, or anyone else for that matter. It’s fine.”

 

Dana opens the door to their dorms, and Max looks at her with a gentle smile. “No, I mean… Seriously, thank you.”

 

She just pats Max on the back. “Get in loser, we’re going napping.”

  
They laugh even after the door behind them creaks to a close, and Max isn’t sure if her heads still swimming, or if Dana’s shoulders actually stopped being so tense halfway up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully chapter 4 will be up in not too long, and thanks again to my super super lovely beta for fixing all my stupid mistakes 8") <3


	4. When you hear me howlin boo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Halloween, Max is gay and confused, Dana doesn't help.

The only reason Max wakes up is because her head is throbbing with pain, and she lets out a quiet groan as she rolls over on her side, covering her eyes with her hand like it’ll do any good. She fumbles for something to hold on to so she can get up, trying to find those painkillers she keeps in her closet for when periods roll around, but all her hand is met with is the dry feeling of a thinly painted wall.

"You need something?" a voice behind her asks, and she'd sit up if something wasn't beginning to stroke her hair in a way that was far too nice to stop. "Jeez... Uh, what..." Wow, putting those social skills to good use there, girl. The voice chuckles sweetly, a large part of Max deeply grateful to the gentle hand now scratching at her scalp.

 

Landing on a question after mulling it over for a little, she asks "Do I have to get up?", and she can hear the smile in the girls voice when she replies. "You don't have classes tomorrow, and if you did, you know I'd have dragged you out of bed by your hair. I wouldn't let you miss them, you know that much Max."Finally she puts two and two together, and sits up slowly, rubbing at her eyes. "Wait... Tomorrow?" and then she turns to her right, sees the familiar brown ponytail and the tank top with a frog on it. "Dana, why are we in your room?" The question is probably a bit stupid, but there's no bite to the reply she gets. "You were pretty much knockout ready when we got inside, if you remember." Max decides it best to keep it to herself that she doesn't.

"You still had blood all out of your nose so we cleaned you up, and, well..." Dana trails off slightly.

 "I didn't wanna kick you out.” Comes the reply, before she can think too much on the way Dana paused earlier. “You looked like you'd fall over if Victoria so much as breathed on you, so you got my bed." There's a slight pang of guilt in her chest. "How late is it?" she questions, but Dana just smiles. "Don't stress it. It's like, 8:30. You look better now, so you can leave if you want to." The question hangs in the air for a bit, and Max looks down at her hands, thinks. She doesn't want to leave and be alone in her head with everything that's happened, trying to figure out her rewind like she did a year ago. "I dunno.. Can we watch a movie or something first?" she asks, and her friend smiles. "Was hoping you'd stick around. Narnia good?"

 

"Narnia's always good."

 

\--

 

They end up falling asleep on Dana's couch, woken up by the glare of the sun through the window and the beep of a 7:30 alarm that, if Max had read it right, had been snoozed at least twice. Dana got dressed and Max very obviously messed with her phone instead of looking at her, neither of them commenting on it. The awkward in the silence was broken by Dana snorting at how Warren had tried to call _her_ to get ahold of Max, and she groaned her apology, rubbing at one tired eye.

 

"He's still got it bad." Dana says, her head emerging from the thin black sweater she'd just put on. "He does," Max says, solemnly. "And he's not taking the hint that I'm not straight," she adds, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes. Her friend laughs a little, looking through her drawers for something "Tell me about it. Boys suck," the sentence cut off by the triumph of locating her eyeliner. "Some of them might be nice," Max says, smiling when she sees how concentrated Dana looks, putting her face on for the day. "But I think I prefer girls."

 

She hears an "Ooh la-la," from the desk behind her, and she rolls her eyes. "You're one to talk." she says, but Dana doesn't flinch. "Hey, I just wanna make sure you land yourself with someone good." she blinks at the mirror, before turning to do the other eye. "And not some asshole who’s just gonna mess you up all over again.” Max smiles from the bed, looking over at her friend. “You going to tell me no one’s good enough for me except you, now?” Her friend turns over, eyeliner in one hand and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe. Do you want me to?” She can feel her face heating up, and Dana just laughs, turning back to the mirror. “Oh my god, chill, Max. I’m not about to hit on you when we’re both still fucked up.” The quip is out of her mouth before she can help it. “Are you saying you’re just waiting ‘till the Halloween party to make a move on me?”

 

This time, Dana actually stops for a moment, and her expression goes from surprised to playful, toying with the eyebrow pencil in her hands. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, huh?”

When Dana leaves for class later with a little wave goodbye at the door, Max thinks her ears are about to catch fire.

 

\--

 

Max spends the next few days mostly in her room, going to some classes just to hand in work and then heading back to the dorms. She texts Dana some of the time, and she’s had tea with Kate once too, even, but she’s mostly just not able to think anymore, the thoughts churning slowly in the back of her head. Figuring out if you have a crush is never easy, even less so when the person you’d usually talk to about these things is who you might have the hots for. And also when your other friend is a devout Christian, and while she’d never judge, hasn’t seemed too keen on discussing romance in the past.

 

So finally that Sunday, she goes out to Chloes grave again, alone this time. Asking advice from a dead person isn't the most clever way of going about things, there won't be an answer without a ouija board, but at least she'll get some thoughts aired out safely. She hopes. If Chloe could see her now, Max knows she'd judge her pretty hard. Not with bad intent, but she'd have that mocking tone in her voice where she teased to cover up that she was worrying. God, just thinking about it’s got her blinking back tears. The ache in her chest is real today, with a feeling she can only describe as pain, and being scared her non-existent girlfriend would somehow see her feelings, and get pissed she's cheating.

 

Instead of backing out though, Max just steels her mind, and begins.

 

"I know I don't visit here twice a week, much less... More often than I need to. Don't blame me for getting upset every time I have to think about how you're dead and it's all my fault, you'd... You'd do the same. God," she sighs, wiping at one eye. "It still messes me up, but I need to not talk about you now. Even dead you make me stroke your ego, why am I surprised." She says, and the laugh that follows is sad and hollow.

  
  


"Chloe, I think I might... Like Dana. I know if you were here you'd be pissed -- if you were here, this wouldn't be happening, because I loved you so much -- I still do. But you're 6 feet under and none of us were ever good at long-distance, right?" She can't bring herself to laugh this time, there's just a sad smile on her face while she's talking to a slab of stone on the ground, a slab with more meaning to it than anything in any life, if she's one to judge. "So..." she feels stuck, not necessarily in time, but just in the purpose of this talk, her head is only growing more clouded with every word that's falling out of her mouth.

  
  


"I feel like if you could answer any of this, you'd be pretty pissed off. And... And it's really fucking hard to try and make it feel right to love someone else, when I'm still hung up on you." Max doesn't feel the tears on her face, so much as she notices them blurring her vision, and she feels stupid and angry and sad all at once. Every feeling a human being can have is bubbling in her chest, a molotov that doesn't even know if it's gonna explode, so all that comes out is a silent sob; her back hunching forward as she tries to gather herself. "You felt like... Like you were the love of my life, Chloe Price. I still want to just go back, go back and fix it, stop you from being dead. Stop me from having to live without you, but I _can't_."

 

"Even just trying to justify crushing on someone else is hard, someone else who's taking up that spot you're still holding in my life, it's... It's like at that birthday party where I was saving you a seat but you didn't show up, because you had the flu. Except this time I know you're never gonna come, and I _still_ just can't let someone else sit down."

 

In her mind, Max chastises herself for the awful metaphor, but it's the best way she's able to think about it. For herself and for Chloe, and her heart sinks in her chest. Not because she feels bad, though there is that too, but because it’s like something in her finally has started to give in. Her shoulders slump down, and whatever weight she was carrying was made just a few pounds lighter. Enough that she won’t be dragging her feet back to Blackwell the way she’s been doing for a year now.

 

"Don't hate me when I come into heaven with a wrinkly butt and grandma hair for trying to live without you, okay? If we were switched around, you'd know how hard this is."

  
  
  
_(Halfway home, it begins to thunder, and Max sheds tears she didn’t know she had left.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY SO SORRY ABOUT THIS THING JUST.... DYING... I don't have a beta currently so this is a bit of a chance update. I have at least one more chapter written out from last year, so hopefully I'll fix that up and post it too, eventually. REGARDLESS.... I HOPE U ENJOY THIS CHAPTER, which I dedicate to my good friend Pum who inspired me to look this fic over again. :')


End file.
